


021. Park Benches

by unmixythings



Series: unmixythings' 100 SuJu Fic Challenge [4]
Category: Super Junior
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-25
Updated: 2012-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-04 06:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unmixythings/pseuds/unmixythings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time he saw him to the last time he saw him. You never know. You never think it will be too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	021. Park Benches

The first time Yesung saw him, Kyuhyun was standing on the park bench, hands stuffed into the pockets of a grey hoodie. He was just observing the world from his perch.

 

And Yesung was instantly fascinated.

 

Other people would walk by and Kyuhyun would let his eyes pass over them, but he never stared for long. There was always someone or something else that would interest him. Yesung wrapped his hands more firmly around his coffee cup and watched his breath waft upwards in the chilly air for a moment. Kyuhyun stood tall above it all and Yesung could only stare in wonder. He looked proud, intelligent, and strong, and Yesung wondered what it would be like if he could be him.

 

The second time Yesung saw him, Kyuhyun was sleeping on the park bench, a book resting across his chest. Yesung had the nerve to approach, but strangely enough, the book didn’t have a title.

 

And Yesung was instantly curious.

 

Not wanting to disturb Kyuhyun’s slumber, Yesung glanced down at the peaceful face. He tried to put to memory every line, every dip, every shadow. Yesung wrapped his scarf around his neck one more time so that the ends wouldn’t fall into Kyuhyun’s face while Yesung was doing his study. Kyuhyun seemed so relaxed in such a public space. He looked trusting, open, and beautiful, and Yesung wondered what it would be like if he could be him.

 

The third time Yesung saw him, Kyuhyun was sitting on the park bench, glancing anxiously at a person who had deemed himself worthy enough to invade his space. He was tapping his foot on the ground.

 

And Yesung was instantly amused.

 

The other person was a shorter businessman looking exceedingly irate as he spoke into a cell phone. His voice was becoming louder, and with every rising decibel, Kyuhyun would inch further away. Yesung plucked out his headphones and took the time to share Kyuhyun’s annoyance. Kyuhyun tried to rebuild his own walls and world again. He looked private, uneasy, and tense, and Yesung wondered what it would be like if he could be with him.

 

The fourth time Yesung saw him, Kyuhyun was sitting back-to-back with the park bench, removed from the world and shoulders slumped. Yesung sat on the bench in silence.

 

And Yesung was instantly acknowledged.

 

He heard a faint muttering that was probably something like get the fuck of my bench. When Yesung didn’t move, Kyuhyun got up and slung himself up and over to sit on the worn wood. Yesung met Kyuhyun’s wary eyes with confidence, but knew his hands were nervously playing with the frayed ends of his scarf. Kyuhyun seemed to make a careful study of Yesung’s face, and Yesung wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

 

“I know you.” Simple, straight-forward, and in a voice so smooth and deep it echoed in Yesung’s pulse, Kyuhyun made his observation. “You watch me.”

“Yes.”

“Then you know that this is my bench.”

“You want me to leave?” Yesung let his hair fall in front of his dark eyes as he buried his cold mouth further in his scarf. Kyuhyun leaned back and slowly shook his head.

“Guess not,” he said. “I don’t mind you.”

“Thanks,” Yesung said with a soft laugh. “I’m Yesung.”

“Kyuhyun. Where do you go when you pass through the park?” Kyuhyun asked.

“Work. Home. Depends on whether I want to wait for the buses.” Yesung shrugged. “Why are you here?”

“It’s a temporary thing. I suppose this bench is more of a rental. Nowhere else to go.” Yesung was surprised. Kyuhyun didn’t look homeless in his hoodie, dark-washed jeans, and scuffed sneakers. “I had a dream once… to be a singer, but I was played by some bastard. He took all my money.” Yesung opened his mouth to say something. “Home isn’t an option either. I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of just to survive, but what I was proud of… that was the reason I was kicked out.” Kyuhyun frowned and his mouth tightened.

“I wish I could hear you sing.” Kyuhyun laughed at that. Yesung was struck by how the sound made his pulse pound persistently.

“Strange thing to ask of someone you don’t know.” Kyuhyun stared straight ahead while Yesung admired his profile. “Maybe another time.” And Kyuhyun was staring right at him, eyes filled with amusement and a mysterious air. They sat together for a little while longer, sharing insignificant information that seemed so much more important because of the person who was listening. Yesung told Kyuhyun that he liked rock ballads, small dogs with big eyes, and when the sky was golden-orange. Yesung learned that Kyuhyun liked simple melodies, arcade games he couldn’t afford, and mornings after a snow storm. He even appreciated them now that he was stuck in the cold. But it was getting even colder these days. Yesung worried.

“Shelter?” Yesung didn’t want Kyuhyun to freeze to death in the park. There were too many horror stories out there and Yesung didn’t want Kyuhyun to become another statistic.

“Too crowded. It’s like… I can’t breathe. And you need to breathe to sing,” Kyuhyun said with a smile. Yesung nodded, exhaling into the air.

They heard some children squeal with joy in the nearby playground.

“How about my place?” Yesung didn’t know what possessed him to say that, but he realized he didn’t want to take it back. Kyuhyun looked surprised.

“What exactly are you offering?” Kyuhyun cocked an eyebrow at him. “And to a complete stranger at that.”

“I don’t know. A place to stay… a roof over your head and food and a washroom that doesn’t boast someone’s phone number if you’re looking for a good time.” Kyuhyun acknowledged that with a quirk of his lips, but remained silent. He slouched over a bit and his brow knit together into a slight frown. “I won’t push,” Yesung said, sensing Kyuhyun’s discomfort and feeling a little silly as well. “After all, you don’t even know me. I could be an axe murderer.”

“I’m sure you’re even scarier than one in the morning.”

Yesung grinned at that. “How did you know? I’m useless without at least two cups of coffee in the morning.”

“And grumpy too, I bet,” Kyuhyun replied.

Suddenly, Yesung remembered something. “You had a book with you. It didn’t have a title.” Kyuhyun paused, and then promptly revealed a plastic bag.

“It’s a journal of sorts,” he explained. Taking out the simple, black book, Kyuhyun touched the cover with affection. “Lyrics, bits and pieces, words, and just about anything that I can think of or that I come across. Really… it’s the only thing that keeps me sane out here.” Yesung found himself being presented with the journal. “Take your time with it.” Yesung’s eyes widened, a question held clearly in his gaze. “You’ll come back.” It was definitely a statement and a bit like a command. Yesung thought that he really shouldn’t accept something like this, something that was precious to someone who had so very little. Kyuhyun just looked at him expectantly for a couple of abnormally long seconds and leaned back, switching his stare to the sky.

“I’ll take good care of it.” Kyuhyun didn’t move. Yesung tucked the black journal into his messenger bag. In doing so, he also checked his watch. “Oh god, I’m so late!” He scrambled a bit to get up. Yesung had expected more of a response from Kyuhyun, but the other man stayed where he was, face turned to the sky. With disappointment slowly seeping into him, Yesung slowly started to leave, passing Kyuhyun in the process.

Someone grasped his coat. “Thank you.” Yesung glanced down at Kyuhyun and let a huge smile break across his face. Kyuhyun stared right at him. Yesung wanted to kiss him. He hesitated. Just as he was about to lean in, someone bumped his shoulder roughly. Kyuhyun pulled back, releasing Yesung’s winter coat and crossing his arms. “You should get going.” Yesung nodded mutely. The first step away from Kyuhyun was hard. It didn’t get any easier.

 

Work was a blur. Yesung closed his tired eyes, welcoming the image of Kyuhyun in his mind. He wanted to see him again. Another walk in the park after work sounded like a wonderful idea.

 

The air was even colder now at 5 o’clock. He had taken a detour to buy Kyuhyun some coffee, using the crowded southern entrance to the park. The steam was obvious as it met with the chilly air. Yesung looked up and couldn’t see anything left of the sky among the clouds. He walked briskly to Kyuhyun’s park bench, but when he got there, Kyuhyun was nowhere in sight. Yesung waited. And waited. And waited. Kyuhyun didn’t come. Yesung’s stomach reminded him how far it was past dinner time. The coffee had long gone cold. He stood.

_‘You didn’t think that he really spent all of his time here, did you? That he’d be waiting for you.’_ Yesung thought, chiding himself for acting like a love-sick fool. As he headed towards home, Yesung couldn’t help but think in the back of his mind that there was really nothing wrong with being in love. He’d done many stupider things in his life than falling in love with a stranger.

 

His home was empty, like always. Jacket on the wooden peg, bag on the small table, and shoes by the door. He systematically put everything away, slipped into his slippers, and put on a sweater to ward off the cold. In his hand, Yesung held Kyuhyun’s journal. He settled into the plush loveseat in front of his television and left the journal on his lap. Reaching for the remote, Yesung decided to watch the news. Nothing too out of the ordinary; bad economy, tax break promises broken, and foreign turmoil.

“And now for your local news,” the lady on the television said. “Police need your help in identifying this man.”

“Kyuhyun?” Yesung’s attention was drawn completely to the sketched picture shown there. He knew that face better than his own after today.

“Earlier today, he was found beaten to death at the eastern entrance of Solace Park. They are identifying this as a hate crime. Witnesses heard several men yelling racial and homophobic slurs. 911 was called, but the young man died from blood loss on the way to the hospital.”

Yesung had barely heard anything after the word “death” and had frozen in place. The only part of him that moved was his hand, clasping around the black journal.

It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.

He had just been talking to him, smiling with him, falling in love with him.

It wasn’t true.

 

Yesung ran out. His slippers slapped against the ground and his heels.

 

_He’s not dead._

 

Yesung could see the bench now. He ran faster.

 

_He’s not here._

_Where?_

 

Yesung stopped, panting, at the wooden park bench. Kyuhyun wasn’t there and Yesung dropped onto the seat, mind racing, but not as fast as his heart. He felt tears on his face and he didn’t care. He wanted to see Kyuhyun.

 

_Not here._

_This wasn’t where they found him._

 

Yesung walked slowly this time. Trepidation filled his every movement. When he saw the remnants of yellow police tape against the metal fence surrounding the eastern entrance, Yesung felt numb. He couldn’t go any closer so he walked back to Kyuhyun’s bench. There was a streetlamp there. The glow of it was eerie now. Yesung sat and opened Kyuhyun’s journal. Hours passed. Yesung read. He took in every word like he was starved for them. He didn’t want to move. This was their place. He felt closer to Kyuhyun on this worn bench.

There was a final entry.

 

\- There was so much I wanted to do. Maybe some good luck will come to me. Maybe an angel. Maybe a person who will complete me. Because more than I love singing, I love someone who I can sing to. -

 

Suddenly, something landed on the open pages of the book. It lay there, white and pristine, before melting and wetting the ink slightly.

 

Snow.

 

Yesung got up.

 

The final time Yesung saw him, Kyuhyun was lying flat and pale on a metal table, a white cloth over his thin body. He had bruises and cuts that never had the opportunity to heal.

 

And Yesung was instantly broken.

 

There were people asking him questions and all Yesung could do was say Kyuhyun’s name, and that he had only known him for less than a day, that they had met at the bench. Someone asked him if he knew why Kyuhyun was at the eastern entrance of the park when his bench was toward the south-western end. Yesung stopped.

 

That was where Yesung exited the park to go to work.

 

His whole body ached in that moment and Yesung truly understood the meaning of regret. Yesung’s gaze went back to Kyuhyun’s body. He looked dead and gone, and Yesung wondered what it would be like to join him.


End file.
